The Crucible: What Happened Instead
by Visage
Summary: What if they never found Adam in the desert? Would he have found his way home?
1. Prologue

The Crucible: What Happened Instead  
By Visage  
Summary: What if they never found Adam in the desert? Would he have found his way home?  
Rating: PG  
Warnings: Semi-Spoliers for _The_ _Crucible_.  
Feedback: Yes, please!

Author's Note: This is one of those stories that started off as a suggestion on a message board thread and kind of found a life of its own. I know, I know, I haven't forgotten about our favorite little Cabin Boy. But Adam is so self-sufficient and rarely needy that when he demands attention you give it to him. Like operant conditioning… I think. Or is it classical?

...

Prologue

Numb.

That was all he had felt since that day in the desert. Complete nothingness.

"Pa, you can't go on like this." What was that? A Cartwright giving up?

"It's been two weeks since he left Eastgate." Two weeks? That couldn't be right. It passed by as a frantic blur.

"Alright," Ben sighed. He tried to mask the pain with slight indifference, acceptance of what he could not control. But no matter how hard he tried, his ears couldn't block out the sobbing cry of his heart as it left his chest. "Let's go on back home."

Ben slowly turned his horse around, unable to lift his eyes up from his pants leg where grains of sand began to collect in the material. His hand refused to reach up and brush it away.

He turned to take one last gaze over his shoulder before urging Buck forward. He didn't look to see if Hoss and Joe were following behind.

He almost didn't care.


	2. Chapter 1

The Crucible – WHI

Chapter 1

He had long ago learned to ignore the scratch of grit in every pore of his body. His eyes burned with fatigue, his shoulders were on fire. Still, he put one foot in front of the other.

_Step, breathe. Step, breathe._

He'd forgotten why he was walking across the desert, he only remembered his destination. He had to make it home. His kid brother was waiting for him. He had to go home.

_Step, breathe. Step, breathe._

He could still hear the cackle of laughter. The voice of that madman seeped under his skin, taunting him, refusing to let him go. It was a reminder of the man he wasn't.

How easy it would it be to lie down beside the still figure on the travois and give into his pain and exhaustion. To admit that he was not the strong man of convictions and principles as everyone believed. That the line in the sand was a lot closer than even he once thought.

God, how he hated sand.

_Step, breathe. Step, breathe._

It took a few seconds for his mind to register the heat blurred outline. The blessed frame of a building, people milling about. Was his mind playing games now, too?

He felt strong hands wrap around his middle, pulling him to his feet. Funny, he didn't even realize he fell.

"What happened, Son?" A voice called. He didn't recognize it. He shook his head. _I'm not _your_ son._

"Home." He said. His whispered words came out in gasps. "M'Brother. Gotta… get Joe."

"Alright, Boy. Take it easy, you're alright."

"Hey, Sheriff! This one's dead. I think it's that Kane Feller."

He shivered.

"The Doc should see for hisself, but looks like a case of heat stroke to me. Probably for both of them."

"Get him inside, would ya? Before we have two graves to dig."

"Didn't mean-" The words caught in his scratched throat, his breath was coming in gasps, black spots floated in his vision. "Pa?"

"I know, Boy." He felt a firm hand on his neck. "We'll get you to your Pa."

Unable to hold it in any longer, Adam Cartwright wept.


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you all so much for your reviews so far! :) May I present the next chapter for your reading pleasure.

Chapter 2

Light and darkness swirled together, making his stomach churn. His neck and back crawled from the sour wetness of sweat on his skin. His body throbbed in time with his heartbeat. His hands clawed at the damp sheets, desperately trying to steady himself.

"Easy now, Sonny." A quiet voice called. Light pressure on his chest held him in place. "You're alright now."

Adam opened his eyes and the room slowly came into focus. The walls to the small room were bare and unfamiliar. Sun light streamed into his face and he turned away. It was then that he noticed the thin metal bars of a jail cell. His gut turned to ice. Memory flooded back. Five Thousand dollars. Being left for dead in the desert. The mine.

Peter Kane was dead.

"Hey, now." The same voice called, light and friendly, as if speaking to a frightened child. "Welcome back, Boy. We was gettin' worried about you! Figured you was related to that Van Winkle Feller that slept for twenty years. You're okay now, you're in my office over to the Jail. Weren't no room for you over to the Doc's place." He was a dark skinned man, perpetually tan from long days in the sun. His hair was starting to silver and thin at the temples. "How you feeling?"

Adam tried to answer, words coming out in a gasping growl.

"Oops, hold on, there. Sam! Run and get some water for him, will ya? I plumb forgot. 'Fraid I don't have much experience with this whole nursemaid thing, Sonny. Not to worry, we'll have you fixed up in no time. Sorry we can't say the same about your friend. Weren't nothing we could do by the time we found you."

A breath caught in his chest, the knot in his stomach tightened. He felt his hands begin to tremble. Peter Kane was dead and Adam Cartwright was the reason why. He shook his head. "I-" he started, his voice a thin whisper. He reached forward, weakly grabbing the Sheriff's vest. "My… fault."

The Sheriff scrunched his eyebrows up in confusion. "Don't take this the wrong way, Boy, but you're weaker'n a kitten. Ain't no way you could have kilt 'im, even if you tried. Besides, Doc looked 'im over and said it was exposure and heat. Looks to me like you did just about everything you could, circumstances being what they were. Ain't no blame to place except on that fool himself. He's the crazy that wanted to live out in the middle of nowhere. Been trying to get him back to town for ages. I think the Sheriff over to Salt Flats was on him about living alone, too. But I never got the chance to ask him personal like."

Adam narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the Sheriff's long string of rambling words. His head began to throb with the effort.

"What's your name, Boy? Got any kin folk we can telegraph for you, Son? Maybe a wife and kids? Or your Pa? Where is he?"

"Sheriff!" A pair of boots clomped into the office and back toward the jail cells. A young, thin deputy threw back the door, his chest heaving from running. The badge on his chest was still bright with the shine of brand newness. "Sheriff, Murphy needs you right quick. They're at it again!"

"Of all the confounded times-" The Sheriff started as he straightened up. "Now you stay right here boy, you hear? I'll be right back and we'll get a hold of someone for you. Promise. Just don't go nowhere."

The Sheriff ran out the door, grabbing his gun belt from the desk as he passed.

Adam's head fell lightly back against the jail cot. Pa. His pa was home with Hoss. Adam needed to get to them so they could go find Joe. Fool kid was probably wandering the desert looking for him and getting himself lost in the meantime.

Carefully, he propped himself up on his elbows, ignoring the protesting muscles. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and sat with his head bent to his knees, waiting for his stomach to settle back into place.

Adam used the wall to slowly get to his feet, leaning heavily into the hard surface. He took a small step, then another and crossed to the open jail cell door. His hands grabbed the smooth metal bars and he leaned his face against the cold. His breath was heaving from just that little effort.

Perhaps this wasn't one of his more brilliant plans.

The world righted itself after a few deep breaths and Adam continued. Reaching the main door to the office he wrapped both hands around the handle and pulled with all of his might. It slid open just a crack, enough for Adam to work his hand in and push it open the rest of the way.

He stumbled into the walkway into the path of a well-to-do couple out for a stroll. Most of the people in the street gave a concerned glance or annoyed sneer if they paid any attention to him at all. Doing his best to stay upright, Adam inched his way over to the edge and stepped down each stair first one foot then the other. Adam's arms were flung out wide, trying to balance himself.

He heaved a sigh of relief when he found the water trough only a few steps away. He grabbed the side and eased himself to his knees. Dipping his hands into the cool water he cupped a few handfuls up and into his face, another to the back of his neck. Sand was hiding in places he didn't even know it could reach and he longed to dunk his entire body. However he had the feeling if he got himself in he would never be able to hoist himself out.

It took every ounce of willpower not to slurp the entire trough up in one gulp. A small mouthful trickled down his throat. It eased the scratching and aching and washed the dirt away. He allowed himself only a few more sips before pushing away from the trough and slowly getting to his feet. He swallowed back his stomach's urge to rebel.

He looked up at the sky, trying to decide which way to head. His heart sank as he realized he had no idea where he was. He didn't even know which direction he came from. His mind, fully focused on getting home to find his brother, wasn't thinking clearly. '_Joe.'_ He thought. '_I've got to find Joe.'_

A wagon stood on the opposite side of the road. The hitched horses were lazily flicking their tails, allowing their heads to droop in rest. A man came out of the storefront carrying a large sack and made quick work of hefting it into the back of the wagon. He shifted it into a secure place before turning back. A woman followed a few feet behind, her armload of goods slightly smaller. As Adam moved across the dusty road he saw the man nod his head at the woman and head back into the store. The Woman gathered her skirts and started to climb into the tall seat of the wagon.

"Wait." Adam called. He staggered the last few steps to the wagon, only just catching the very end to keep from falling over. His chest heaved as he gulped for air. "Wait, Miss. Please."

The Woman nearly tripped herself at the sound of his voice. It took her a moment to recover enough to hurry to the back of her wagon. Her arms outstretched she maneuvered herself as if to catch him when he fell. "Land Sakes, Man! What are you doing out here? Someone should fetch the Doc."

Adam shook his head, raising his hand up weakly in protest. "You know… Virginia City… which way?"

One arm snaked around his torso and her hand firmly gripped his upper arm. Without realizing it she was helping him settle on the back lip of her wagon, his feet dangling off the edge. "Virginia City? Is that out by Carson? In Nevada Territory?"

Adam gave a weak grin and a nod. "Which way?"

"Past my place, that's for sure." She answered. She thought a moment before pointing down the main street. "But it's that way, only a few days ride I think. Never been there myself, only know from hearsay. But I have lots of hands from over that way."

Adam tipped his head down politely and shifted his hands to stand. He tried to thank the woman, but all that came out was a huff of air.

"Now, hold it there, Mister!" A lot more forcibly than needed, she pushed Adam's shoulders. His backside thunked against the wagon. "Where do you think you're going? I hope you weren't planning on walking out of here. Where's your horse?"

Adam looked down at the ground. "Stole 'im." His hands began to shake.

"Then you'd best march over and get yourself a new one if you plan on getting all the way to Virginia City." Her hands framed her waist and she pushed her nose almost into Adam's. Her dark green eyes were flashing. "Though in your condition you shouldn't be riding anything but your bed, Bronc-Buster."

Adam reached into the front pockets of his pants. His hands slid in more easily than they should have. Dryly as he could manage in his exhausted state, he made a show of pulling out the lining of his pockets and looking up at the Woman from under his eyebrows. Did she think he didn't know he needed a horse?

"Don't you sass me, Mister. You still should see the Doc or at least hole up somewhere to sleep for a few days. You're not getting anywhere if you can't even hold your head up."

"Joe. Gotta find… my brother, Joe."

Her eyes softened, the lines of anger on her forehead began to smooth. A delicate hand snuck up and wiped the perspiration from her temple and cheek. A curl of mouse-brown hair escaped from under her hat. "Your Brother? Is he out in that desert?"

Adam swallowed. "Think so. Supposed to meet him. Gotta get home… Get Pa… Look for him."

It was the Woman's turn to look at the ground. She fiddled with her fingers, her mind clearly years away. With a sharp shake of her head to clear away the thoughts she continued. "Well. You could, I mean, I'm going up that way anyway. At least until I get to our place a dozen or so miles from here. You could ride that far with me, if you'd like?"

The last bit of strength left Adam's muscles and his shoulders slumped forward. "Forever… in debt."

The Woman busied herself settling Adam against a large, lumpy sack that rather felt like potatoes to his aching back. She swung his legs up onto the wagon. "Ah, we'll talk about the outrageous fare I'm going to charge for lugging you halfway across this forsaken desert when I get you home. I guess you can get just as good doctoring at my place as you can from the Doc. And I don't force that foul so-called-medicine on people, either."

Adam's laugh came out more like a weak snort. "I draw the line at… mustard plasters."

The woman grinned. "Deal. You just rest for now, alright?"

After a few jostles from the woman climbing the wagon he heard the distinctive sound of reins snapping in the air and wheels crunching dirt. Adam's eyes drifted closed as a thought fluttered through his head.

He didn't even know her name.


	4. Chapter 3

Thank you all for your kind words! I'm glad that this is being so well received. Here's another long chapter... I had a lot of 'splainin' to do. ;) Hopefully it all works out in the end!

...

He was getting tired of waking up in unfamiliar surroundings.

The faint, familiar scent of horses drifted under his nose, but there was no hint of bay rum and pipe smoke. He could hear the low murmur of men playing cards and drinking coffee around the bunkhouse on a morning break. The thin, coarse fabric covering him was not his familiar quilt. It scratched at his bare arms, pestering his brain until he slid his eyes open. He shifted his hips, trying to relieve the sharp ache of inactivity in his lower back.

"Hey, Billy! Go fetch Mrs. Hinston! He's coming around!" Adam's eyes squeezed shut, the loud yell reverberating in his skull.

"You should get some water in 'im afore he flops again." A lighter voice called from the back.

"Hey, Youngfella." He felt a soft touch on his shoulder. "Think you could sit up? Grab the pillow off my bunk and throw it here, will ya?" A gentle arm reached around his shoulders and lifted him up. A battered tin mug appeared under his nose.

"Easy now, but try to drink something, 'kay?"

Adam reached up and grabbed the mug with both hands like a child with his first cup. He slowly sipped at the water, the cool wet trickling down his throat. Too soon, he forced himself to lower it to his lap. He heaved a sigh and nodded. "Thank you..." He looked up under his eyebrows in question.

"They call me Mack around here. Mrs. Hinston's Foreman." He was an older man with greying hair and dark eyebrows. His arms were tan and muscular from years of hard work.

Adam nodded slightly, a small smile on his face. "Thanks, Mack."

The door on the opposite side of the bunkhouse opened and thin figure, closer to boyhood than man, poked his head around the frame. "Boss Lady's coming in! She said to make sure you're decent!"

"Honestly, Billy! Could you maybe be a little louder next time? I don't think they heard you all the way in California."

The men milling around the bunkhouse bit their lips and covered their laughs with a well-placed hand. Billy's face fell, his head drooping down to his shoulders.

The door opened the rest of the way and an older woman stepped inside. With one look around the room, all the hands save Mack ducked their heads and found something to do outside of the bunkhouse.

Her skirts rustled around her ankles as she quickly crossed the length of the room to Adam's bunk. A stray lock of dark, graying hair escaped the tight coil at the base of her neck and floated in rhythm as she moved. Green eyes narrowed in study and concern as she bent over her patient, a gentle hand immediately on his forehead to check for a fever. Much like Marie when one of her boys was sick or injured.

"Nice to see you joining us in the land of the living, Young Man." Satisfied of the relative cool touch of his skin her hands found their way to her hips, her toes thumping on the floor. Also eerily like Marie. If he didn't know better he would be running for the hills. Or at least enjoying the last few minutes of his backside making comfortable contact with his bed. "Just what in the world did you think you were doing, traipsing off into the desert on foot? Did someone knock loose your common sense when you got that shiner, or is that something you've always been lacking?"

Adam swallowed hard, trying to keep his face from wincing. Nope, that was a yell worthy of Pa if he ever heard it. He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off before he made a sound.

"Of all the harebrained ideas that one has to take top prize. Walking home in the desert in the hottest stretch of weather we've seen in twenty years! I oughta let you wander off and barbeque yourself!" The woman turned on her heel and walked the few steps to the window, hands still on her hips.

Adam picked at his thumbnail. "I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you, Ma'am. And I thank you for looking out for me. I guess I take after my Pa a little too much. We both have a touch of what my little brother calls a 'Yankee Granite Head'.

A long moment passed before her shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Just a touch, I'm sure."

"You can't fault a man for addled thinkin' when he's been out in the sun, Mrs. Hinston." Mack spoke up.

The woman turned around, a sly smile on her face. "Or some men for thinking in general, I suppose. You said something about your brother, Mister…?"

"Cartwright." Adam said extending his right hand with a smile. "Adam."

"Maggie Hinston." Crossing back to his bed she sat on the edge and took his hand. "I'm sure under normal circumstances this would be a pleasure. But your brother, he's not out in that desert, is he?"

Adam's mouth pressed into a fine line. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I was supposed to meet him at Signal Rock about two weeks ago, but I was… detained. Knowing that boy he probably turned around and tried to back-track my trail. I gotta get home and make sure he's okay. Start looking for him if he isn't there."

"And if you don't find him?"

Adam felt the heat in his gaze, his fists tore at the coarse blanket. "That won't happen. I won't let it."

"I thought the same thing, once." Maggie's voice grew quiet. Her eyes turned to the floor. "My big brother, Robert. You remind me of him. He was built like you, had that same silly grin of yours, dimples and all."

Adam felt his face flush slightly. "What happened?"

"He went off to fight in the war. We were kids, really. No business worrying about anything but our chores and growing. But Robbie had other plans. He left one afternoon in the summer, determined to be a part of the revolution. He never came back. A parcel arrived in the mail from Mexico a few months later with a few of his things and a letter saying he was sorry. Nothing else.

"I tried to go out after him. Made it all the way to town before my father caught me. I kicked, I screamed. Begged for him to let me go after him. But there was nothing I could do to bring him back. It's foolish to risk your life, running out after a person when there's nothing you can do. Or when you have no idea which way to go. You said yourself you don't even know if he's out there."

Adam thought carefully for a moment, a knot working in the pit of his stomach. "But he could be. What if there was a chance that Robbie was out there, maybe lost, hurt. Needing you. Wouldn't you at least have to try?"

Maggie shifted to face Adam again. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears of memories. It was a long moment before she wiped her eyes with the tips of her fingers and sucked in a deep breath. "I'd feel much better if you'd rest here for a few days; regain your strength before setting out."

Adam shook his head. He was determined to make up for the mistakes he made in the desert. Joe and Hoss wouldn't suffer because he wasn't strong enough. "I've wasted too much time already. I've got to find him."

"Alright," She sighed, throwing her hands in the air. "This goes against my better judgment. It's the middle of the season and I don't have too much to offer you. But I have a mare you can have. She's not greased lightning, by any means, but she's a sweet old girl and she'll get you where you need to go. As long as you promise to take good care of her and put her out to pasture to retire when you get home she's all yours."

"I gratefully accept. She'll have all the hay and oats she can eat for life when we make it back. If I can ever figure out something to equal what you're doing for me I'll send it back."

"I still think you're a stubborn, foolish man, Adam Cartwright. But don't let me be the fool who stands in your way, you Yankee Granite Head."

"If I didn't know any better I would think Joe had been out this way already."

"Wait." Mack spoke up. He stood from the table where he retreated to get out of the way, his hands in his pockets. "Cartwright? Your brother is Joe Cartwright? As in the Cartwrights from that big spread out Virginia City way? The Porter-? Pawtuckett?"

Adam's face lit up. "The Ponderosa, that's us! You've seen Joe?"

"Not as recently as you hope, I'm afraid. He did me a good turn a few months ago, kept me out of some major trouble and my nose intact. I owe him quite a bit."

"Sounds like another Cartwright trait of picking up strays. My brothers always manage to keep everyone out of trouble but themselves. They must both get it from Pa."

"Oh, certainly. I'm sure you had nothing to do with teaching them by example." Maggie cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Somehow she couldn't picture this charming young man turning anyone away, even after speaking to him for only a few minutes.

"Not when it comes to the two legged kind." Adam protested. "It's one thing to lend a helping hand or to give a push in the right direction. Hoss and Joe really do take it above and beyond the call of duty. But they do have their hearts in the right place, even if they don't always think things through before they jump in." Adam tried to clamp down on his tongue, wondering where the words were coming from. There was something gentle and grandmotherly about this woman that coaxed out thoughts he never wanted to express to anyone.

Maggie just shook her head. "How are you feeling, Adam? Are you sure you want to head out today?"

"As soon as possible, please." He flattened his palms against the mattress and lifted his upper body up just slightly to stretch his back. He grunted as the snaps and pops loosened the tight muscles. "If it's all the same to you. Under normal circumstances I would take you up on your offer in a heartbeat. But you just said yourself, these aren't normal circumstances. Besides, I'm already feeling much better than I was even a few minutes ago. I do thank you for everything, but I really need to find Joe."

"I take it there's no arguing with a Cartwright either, once he's made up his mind, eh?" Maggie couldn't hide a small laugh as she patted the younger man's knee. She anchored and slowly pushed herself off the side of the bed into a standing position. She moved stiffly, shuffling her feet until she was standing straight. "Alright, then. Mack knows the old girl I'm talking about. How about if he tacks her up and gets her ready while I get something light to fill that belly of yours? Think you could take some broth? Maybe I'll set you up with a grub bag for the trip."

Adam held his hand up in protest. "You've done more than you needed to already. You shouldn't go to all that trouble."

"For land sakes! I'm not going to save your sorry hide just so you can starve on the way home to your Pa. And I won't hear another word about it! You lay back and close your eyes until I come back with a tray for you, you hear?"

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am!" Adam held his hand up in mock salute. As Maggie turned to walk away Adam couldn't hold his tongue's sly remark. "Are you sure _you_ were never in the Army?"

"You're just lucky you're still an invalid or I'd be finding some lye soap to wash that sass out of your mouth." She waggled a finger at him for a moment before her eyes grew soft. "Just promise me something, Adam?"

"Name it."

She leaned down and cupped his thin cheek with the palm of her hand. "Promise you'll send me a note when you get to your spread so I know you made it alright? But mostly, make sure you tell your Pa and brothers how much they mean to you first thing when you see them."

"They know how I feel about them." Adam shifted uncomfortably on the mattress, his eyes dodging hers.

"Maybe so," she said. She kept her gaze on his face until he was forced to look into her eyes. "But it never hurts to remind them." As if someone flipped a switch she dusted off her hands and spun on her heel. She called over her shoulder as she walked out of the bunkhouse door. "It's nearly dinner time. I'll bring something in and we can eat together before you head into that Godforsaken wilderness."

Adam starred where Maggie had been for a few moments, thoughts whirling through his mind. Only a clunk from Mack's boots brought Adam back to the present. "Dinner in the bunkhouse?" He asked Mack. "Won't Mr. Hinston be opposed to the idea?"

"Hasn't been a Mr. Hinston for quite some time." Mack answered. His voice was soft and a frown briefly flashed across his features. His eyes found the ground, as if hiding from Adam's forming questions. "But that woman just never seems to let it affect her for too long. She's the picture of getting right back on the horse." Without another word he left the bunkhouse and quietly shut the door.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Even his horse seemed to be dragging her feet with each step, though the old mare faithfully continued on even as her head drooped lower and lower to the ground. Very quickly into his journey home, Adam realized that if he got down off of that horse there would be little chance of getting back on. His legs quivered like jelly from effort, his eyes full of grit. But he plodded on, straight through that day and night into the next morning.

The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that he had made the right decision to turn down Maggie's offer. While his body craved rest and stillness, his mind was churning with his gut. His father would never forgive him if he let something happen to Joe. Hoss too, really. Though in all honesty Adam knew he would never forgive himself the most. The title of 'Big Brother' was just too hard to let go of, even long after his charges had learned to look out for themselves.

A particularly hard step from the mare jarred Adam's teeth and threatened to bring up what little was left in his stomach. He closed his eyes, gripping the mare's reins and mane tighter. Water collected in his mouth, warning of imminent sickness.

'_A man's responsible for what he does,'_ A Voice in his head scolded. _'If he loses control of himself…'_

His words came back to sock him in the gut. He wasn't sure if the same man who left Eastgate all those weeks ago would return to the Ponderosa. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to be that same man anymore.

Adam replayed the last few minutes in Kane's camp over and over again in his mind. The haughty look of triumph as Kane revealed the provisions. The hanging challenge to take his best shot.

Kill or be killed.

Had he fought in survival mode, purely out of reflex? Did his animalistic need for self-preservation take over? Or did his mind turn on him, twisting his words in a sick game like Kane's. Adam of course had more than his fair share of fights. Most he had been goaded into though he was known to instigate from time to time. On the rare occasions when he took a life it was never without another option and most certainly with remorse. But never before had someone so carefully crept under his skin driving him to the very edge of his sanity making him question whether it was for self-preservation or revenge.

He wasn't sure his gut was churning solely from the physical ride.

His brothers flashed through his thoughts once more. How would he ever explain to them what had happened? Adam didn't think he would be able to look his family in the eye and confess that he had lost control. The thought of turning his poor, tired mount off toward the mountains tempted his hand for the briefest of moments.

He felt the weight of a strong hand on his shoulder. _'Just keep-a comin', Older Brother.'_ Hoss's voice drifted into his ear.

'_I bet I'm home before you are!'_ He could see the dust from Cochise's trail as Joe flew off in a not-so-subtle attempt to get ahead.

The faintest hint of Bay Rum and horses drifted under his nose. _'We're waiting for you, Son.'_

Adam sucked in a deep breath. He at least owed his family an explanation. And if he knew the Cartwright stubbornness as well as he thought, there was no way they would let him run until he worked out where his line in the sand stood again.

He shifted his weight to sit up taller in the worn out saddle. The landscape was beginning to look familiar again. With any luck if he continued at this pace, he'd be home late that evening.

He couldn't help but ask the poor mare to quicken her gait, just a hair.


	6. Epilogue

And now the Conclusion of this What Happened Instead for The Crucible. Thank you all so much for your kind words! I hope you all enjoy the conclusion as we bring our Cartwrights to their full and upright position. ...For the most part.

...

Ben sat in the red armchair, brooding into the fire as he did almost every night. His crimson robe wrapped tightly around his nightgown, warm slippers toasting his feet. Despite the late summer air drifting through the house, a chill seeped into his bones making them ache with anguish.

Joe mentioned something about checking the stock. Or was it Hoss? At least he thought that's what someone said, he wasn't sure anymore. He muttered his usual monosyllabic grunt of acknowledgement, not looking up from the slowly dying embers in the hearth.

He propped his elbow on the arm of the chair, his chin resting in his palm. His eyes stared out vacantly, seeing a young, dark beauty standing on her tip-toes, excitedly leaning over the dock railing, looking out into the open ocean. A tall blonde with flour dusting her smiling cheeks as she kneaded dough, laughing. A woman with long curls sitting in the rocking chair by the fire, humming as she knitted. A tall man with dark hair curled up like a cat in the blue armchair, his nose buried in a thick book.

He ground the palm of his hands into his eyes.

Distantly he heard the soft clop of a horse in the yard. He vaguely turned his head toward door, unable to summon the strength or even the desire to satisfy the vague curiosity.

Did it even matter?

"Pa!" He heard a shout from Hoss. Frantic, non-believing. Something was wrong. "Pa, get out here! Quick!"

Fear gripped his hear, his breath caught in his throat. Any number of incidents raced through his mind. His body would never stand another heartache.

Ben grabbed the arms of the chair tightly, an itch in the back of his mind forcing him to his feet. He had given up on prayers, on dreams and desires. On life itself. Nothing would ever bring back his wives.

Or his son.

Ben staggered to the door, his feet shuffling lightly on the floor. He set his hand on the latch. Eyes closed, he rested his head on the frame, just for a moment to prepare for the next cruel twist of fate. He could hear the deep chuckle of the Universe, Mother Earth, maybe even God Himself. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. Finally he threw open the door, his eyes frantically searching for Hoss.

There was a horse in the yard, catching Ben's eyes first. A bit scruffy and looking bone tired. Who would let their mount deteriorate that much? He then saw both of his sons standing by the animal, their eyes and faces lit with pure joy.

Ben narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Where was the blood? Where was the sorrow? Where was his immanent pain?

That's when he noticed the dark figure in tattered clothing. Barely a man, he looked as thin and ragged as the poor creature that brought him in. The only thing keeping him upright was the death grip on each arm from Joe and Hoss.

He looked tired, worn out. Dark, unruly curls matched the scraggly beard covering his face. Ben winced as he gazed over the emaciated form. The poor Devil.

It was then that he caught the Stranger's eyes, rich amber in color, lids drooping with exhaustion. Something about those eyes captivated Ben to where he couldn't look away. They brought back a wash of memories. Those eyes spoke of first love, innocent and true. They had begged him to go west among tall trees to raise tall sons. Those same eyes from a different face became his companion on the long trek, filled with complete trust and adoration. They stood toe to toe with him, burning with the passion of conviction. They sparked with laughter, patience, understanding.

He knew those eyes.

He took a cautious step forward, then another, slow and disbelieving. He swallowed hard, not letting his mind even think that his deepest and most longed for wish could possibly come true. Ben's feet began to move ahead of his mind, running before the command was given.

Ben reached out for the man, hands trembling. He hesitated only slightly before cupping the hollowed face with the gentlest of touches. His heart fluttered wildly, already convinced while his mind refused to accept it. He had to be sure. Far too good to be true, he had to be absolutely sure.

"Pa?"

Like a drain had been pulled, the tautness in his muscles released. His arms tightly enveloped the thin figure, the familiar warmth against his chest a final conformation. After a long moment, Ben held the man at arm's length, letting his hands run through his dark hair, over his thin face, drinking in every detail of the man's being. Tears fell freely from Ben's eyes as he lightly kissed his forehead.

"Adam." Ben murmured quietly into the man's hair. "Oh, my Dear Adam." He began to rock gently, calming both the pounding in his chest and the heaving shoulders in his arms.

'_My Son has come home.'_


End file.
